


No Other Options

by FoxBlossom



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxBlossom/pseuds/FoxBlossom
Summary: Tired of being treated like garbage by her step-father, Tyla decided to up and leave home. Travelling to a big city, she thought she could make her own way but soon finds out that acting in haste can often cause us to repent at leisure. In need of food, shelter, and money, she see's an opportunity to work in one of the cities' best gentlemen's clubs. What Tyla doesn't know, is that this particular club's manager is probably the darkest, sexiest and most intense men she'll likely ever come across...(I suck at summaries!)





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> All rights and reservations to TWD.

Rain drizzled down from the night sky, tiny inky black rivers forked over the slick sidewalks. The neon glow from streetlamps, clubs, and bars created color-soaked patches amongst the puddles dotted here and there. Even in this drab cold weather, the city still hummed with life as people hurried along on their journeys, cars drifted by, taxi cabs pulled in and deposited more people amongst the throng. 

I remained sitting at the bus stop, the same place I’d been for the past two hours or so now. I hadn’t missed my transport, my bus wasn’t late; for me, it was just a method of staying dry and marginally warmer than I would be, was I getting soaked amongst the seemingly constant steady downpour. I tried to stuff my hands a little deeper into the pockets of my worn-down denim jacket, attempted to tuck my chin even lower into the collar of my faded patchwork shirt for whatever remnants of warmth I could squeeze out of it. Nevertheless, another bone-deep chill rattled up from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. I was finding it difficult now not to regret the decision to leave my home, which was now several hundred miles away. At the time, fuelled by anger, hurt and all the forward drive of any eighteen-year-old who thought she had it all planned out, it had seemed a great idea. Now though, hungry, broke and slowly freezing, I was starting to feel repentant for acting in haste. I had around $60 left in my wallet, a few items of clothing in my backpack and a couple of other personal items to my name. It was a sorry situation, even I had to admit that. Perhaps I could go back, see how things pan out and just take it from there? Reluctantly I lifted my chin and glanced across the road, spotting a payphone by one of the bars. I blinked once or twice, trying to work out what I’d say as my body slowly lifted forward from my seat most of its own volition. I shouldered my backpack and steadily picked my way across the road, dodging traffic and people and trying to avoid the rain best I could. Quickly I slid up by the payphone, unhooking the receiver and fixing it by my ear with one hand whilst my other fished around for my money. Tentatively, I slid a few coins into the pay meter and started to dial. I heard the ringing tone begin and began to look around, suddenly feeling nervous and small. It seemed to ring for a long time, the noise becoming louder each time. I twirled the phone-cord nervously before a familiar voice answered. I held my breath.

“Hello?” my mother’s voice questioned, and I could hear the concern. I’d be gone for a week now with virtually no contact.  
“Uh.. mom?” I hesitated, “H… hey, it’s me” I stuttered, suddenly unsure, vulnerable.  
“Tyla! Tyla is that you?!” she sounded shocked and elated at the same time.  
“Yeah mom it’s me. Look… I, I think maybe… I was thinking of maybe, coming home…”  
Just as I started to feel like I was making the right decision in putting an end to my impromptu vacation, I could hear my step-father’s voice in the background, harsh and cruel as it always was. In response, I heard my mother put her palm over the ear-piece to stop me hearing, but I still caught the occasional muffled comment. I immediately felt the rage start to bubble up inside me, climbing up my throat like lava.  
“Tyla do you understand how much Steve and I have been worrying about you? And how dare you steal money from Steve’s wallet! You better return it the second you get home!”  
The cold shivers that had been wracking my body were suddenly replaced by white-hot fury. My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles went white, trembling. I was an idiot to think she even cared beyond anything that didn’t involve Steve these days. It had been like he’d brainwashed her. And after four years of dealing with Steve being a complete an utter bastard to me, I’d had enough. She was still rambling at me when I cut her off.  
“Look, tell Steve he can fuck himself. Forget I called. You and Steve have a great life.”

I didn’t even wait to see what her response would be as I smashed the phone back down on the hook. I stood there for a second or two, breathing heavy and staring at it like it was my worst enemy. Finally, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, breathing deeply and exhaling slowly. So, I had no other options now but to find a way to make this new life work. I ran a hand back through my chin length choppy brown hair before shouldering my backpack again. It felt strange, and oddly freeing, to know that all I had now was in my backpack or on my person. I turned and glanced up at the bar that the payphone was next to. It had all its windows blacked out, the frames were a dull brushed steel and the only thing that even signified what the building was, was a sleek red-lit sign. The Sanctuary, it spelled out. A sardonic little smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, irony or fate I wondered? I was about to shrug it off before a small sign on the doorway caught my eye. I shuffled in closer to look. 

Staff required, apply within.

It all seemed very mysterious. It didn’t even state what the requirement was for, but I could imagine it was likely a dive bar in need of new servers who weren’t used to having abuse thrown at them. And yet, even from the outside in the rain and gloom, it looked well-kept and professional. Remember, it’s not like you have many other options right now, I heard a little voice in her head whisper. The money I had left wouldn’t get me far, hell I'd be lucky if it kept me fed for another two days. And just how was I going to afford a place to stay? I swallowed slowly and placed a hand on one of the large black doors and pushed firmly, before stepping inside.


	2. 2

It was heavy and solid, but the door eventually gaped inward to yet more darkness. After a few seconds, my eyes adjusted, and I could pick out tiny red dots on either side of the corridor floor. It reminded me of an airport runway and seemed all the brighter as I stepped in completely and heard the door click shut behind me. It was immediately a relief to be sheltered from the rain the cold. The air inside the place felt warm and I could pick out a mingle of mild scents; alcohol, tobacco, perfume? I walked along the dark carpeted floor, the walls on either side of me seemed to be mahogany to shoulder height, then gave way to mirrors. It felt an odd concept having mirrors in such a dark hallway, but as I hazarded a glance at my reflection, it gave the eerie impression that I was floating along in nothing but shadows. I shuddered slightly and looked ahead again, picking out what appeared to be a small door with a glass insert. As I neared it, I could hear music crooning softly from the other side. The window was too high for me to see through, but I could see a steady swirl of changing lights on the other side. Now or never I said to myself, and gingerly pushed the door open.  
The plethora of scents hit me in a wave, even stronger than when I’d first smelt them. My vision quickly adjusted to this new change and I realized I was in some sort of bar. A gentlemen’s bar. There were several small circular stages dotted about the large room, some of them had a pole in the middle, others had a chair, some were completely empty. Each had a woman on it practicing various forms of exotic dance. Each was scantily clad, in various stages of undress but all of them fully engrossed in their performance, as where the men watching. For a moment I stood frozen in place, my eyes darting all over and taking more in; a large mahogany bar dominated one wall, glossy and impressive. At the far end, what looked like two or three curtained rooms. Small tables, most of them occupied, took up the other spaces around the stages. It was all dark wood, metal, and mirrors. It was clearly a titty bar, but she had to admit it was probably one of the classier ones. As I looked around and took it all in, I could feel eyes on me. Feeling my cheeks start to burn, I glanced nervously across at the bar to see the tender looking directly over. I didn’t move, wondering if I should just turn on my heel and get out as fast as I could. As if he read my mind, he waved me over casually as if I was a long-lost friend. I sucked in a deep breath to steady my resolve and strode over, trying to look confident and calm. As I neared, I could see a smile from under a rather thick looking mustache. I carefully slid onto the barstool in front of him and carefully shrugged my backpack from my shoulder and to the floor. He had large brown eyes that regarded me intently. I guessed he was maybe mid to late 40s, almost bald on top but with dark, greying hair covering the rest of his head. He looked strong for his age, the pale cream shirt sitting snuggly against his body, top button open to reveal tan skin beneath.  
“Now what brings a sweet little thing like you in here?” he spoke with a warm, easy charm.  
“I need a job” I answered, trying to keep the waiver from my voice.  
The man slowly raised one thick eyebrow, before glancing over my shoulder at the women facing, then back to me questioningly. I suddenly realized what he was thinking and flushed scarlet.  
“No no!” I squeaked, panicked. “I was thinking… bar staff? Um… isn’t that what you need?” I was feeling increasingly anxious, hoping I hadn’t made a mistake.  
Instead, the man’s demeanor quickly changed to humor again and he chuckled.  
“Well sure, that’s what I’m needing. You don’t look the dancing type, no offense of course.” He winked.  
“None took” I returned the smile, feeling relief wash over me.  
Giving me a moment to collect my composure, which I was incredibly grateful for, the man reached beneath the bar counter and revealed a small glass tumbler. I watched him produce a clean white cloth from the same area below and give the class a cursory polish.  
“Ok, so say I hire you, there are a few things I expect..” he didn’t take his dark brown eyes off me the entire time he spoke, it made my stomach quiver slightly. Had I got him wrong? Was he actually some creep after all who expected some weird sexual favor for taking me on?  
“And what are those?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral and controlled, resisting the urge to moisten my lips.  
“Well, firstly I’m not some perverted bastard if that’s what your thinking,” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. I expelled the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding.  
“My expectations are honesty. You have my trust until you lose it, but you fuck up once and you’re out. I don’t mean dropping a glass, I mean if I catch you with your hands in the till… well, let’s just say you’ll wish I hadn’t. Understood?” I nodded enthusiastically, excited.  
“Second, I want full disclosure so I know what to say if the cops come knocking on the door.”  
I tilted my head curiously. He was either a mind reader or very astute at reading people, I guessed the latter. When he rolled his eyes I figured what the hell, I’d be honest. I gave him a brief version but kept the story straight, that my father in law was a verbally abusive and controlling prick and that my mother was well under his spell. I told him why I’d decided to leave and that in order to basically live, I needed a job, a roof and an income. At first, I thought I’d blew it, that he figured I was too much of a liability and too much work. After a long few moments, he set the glass down and began to pour a measure of amber liquid into it. He slid the glass over to me and nodded his head.  
“Well, I appreciate the honesty. My name is Simon, and I think you could do with this…” he gestured at the drink.  
I took the glass and held it under my nose, the warm, spicy smell telling me what it was.  
“Thanks Simon, my name is Tyla” I then drank the measure in a single go, the liquid heat immediately coating my throat and creating a sudden brief rush of warmth throughout my body. I set the glass back down, scrunching my nose and eyes as the initial alcohol buzz zinged away slowly. Simon was grinning as he took the glass back and polished it out again.  
Almost straight away, the whiskey began to work it’s magic and I felt my body start to relax, my thoughts settling for the first time in days.  
“Feel better?” he asked and I nodded. “Okay, so there’s an apartment above the bar which your welcome to stay in for now until you get on your feet. We’ll start tomorrow evening once you’ve had a decent night’s sleep and a shower. You got a change of clothes in there?” he gestured down at my backpack.  
“I’ve got a few bits, jeans, a few tops…” I replied. He nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied that I could start work in the attire.  
“Okay good” he then walked across to the till and rang it out, taking something from the register. He reached out his hand for me to take whatever item he’d taken out and dropped it into my hand as I went to take it. It was a key.  
“Go through that side door, up the stairs and it’s the door at the end of the hallway on the right, by the fire escape.” Simon pointed over where he intended on me going. I followed with my eyes and nodded in response. As I hopped down from the barstool and shouldered my backpack, he walked out from behind the bar to me, dipping a hand into the back pocket of his faded Levis.  
“Here, get yourself some breakfast in the morning, any other bits and pieces you might need to tide you over to your first paycheck.” he handed me four fifty dollar bills. I gawked at him.  
“I… er… thank you, I’ll pay you back I promise” I stuttered, slowly folding the notes into the pocket of my shirt.  
“Yeah yeah,” he smiled and patted my shoulder “just don’t go calling your friends and telling them it’s a free ride out here.” and with that, he pointed me over to the door. I followed his cue and started over to the side door, suddenly so relieved at the prospect of a good night’s sleep in a dry bed.  
“And tomorrow night, you’ll meet the boss!” Simon shouted over as I headed out the door.  
I paused, wondering if I’d heard right, but he was already becoming occupied with another patron. Who's the boss then? I thought, before hurriedly making my way to what was to become my home for the foreseeable future…


	3. Chapter 3

I turned the lone key on the ring in the lock of the door. It gaped inward on blackness and I stepped in behind it slowly, my eyes adjusting and searching out a tall uplighter just off the side of the door. I reached over and flicked the switch, pale yellow illuminating what was now my new home. I stood in the doorway doing a cursory check for caution; I felt like I could trust Simon but it was always prudent to be sensible. There was nothing untoward that I could see immediately. It looked like a small single floor apartment, exactly what you’d expect above the kind of establishment below it. It was sparsely decorated but had all the basics; small sofa, coffee table, tv in the corner. Stepping in, I slowly closed the door behind me, hearing the click as I turned the key to secure it. It was quiet inside, apart from the dull echo of music from below my feet. As I walked about the place, I found a tiny kitchenette at the back, separated from the main room by a little ‘L’ shaped breakfast bar, two stools tucked underneath. Further exploration revealed a single bedroom at the other end of the apartment, a little en suite with a shower adjoined it by a sliding door. It was minimalist but clean and tidy, perfect really for my needs, more than I’d anticipated if I was honest. I walked back to the main room and unshouldered my pack onto the sofa before turning the TV on. There was nothing I wanted to see, but I felt grateful for the sudden artificial company. I did a slow turn around and regarded the place again before slumping on the sofa. Up to this point I think I’d been running partially on adrenaline, because the reality of my situation swept over me in a rush. I suddenly felt bone tired, emotional, incredibly alone. Had I made a terrible mistake? Could I even make it right anymore? Did I want to? I felt a lump form in the back of my throat and so closed my eyes, exhaling slowly so as not to let it overwhelm me. I’m tired, I told myself. And I really was. It was silly to think about anything right now. I hadn’t had the opportunity to sleep properly since I left home. Or shower for that matter. That would be my plan for action - a hot shower followed by some much needed sleep, then I’d feel better in the morning. I left the TV on as I went into the bedroom, careful to close curtains to maintain my privacy. There was a fresh cake of soap in my bag which I put to good use in the surprisingly good shower. It was hot and steamy and worked wonders to lift my mood. I sudded myself thoroughly, feeling better with every rinse. Satisfied, I stepped out and wrapped a large white towel about myself, wrapped my hair up in a second smaller one. I sat on the bed and moisturised myself, enjoyed the familiar scent of the product I’d always used back home. I searched for a hair dryer but couldn't find one, that was something I’d have to put on the purchase list tomorrow I mused. I thoroughly toweled my hair then combed it through, it was damp but nothing too horrendous to sleep on. After brushing my teeth I then climbed into bed, the sheets felt cool and crisp, mattress soft and yielding. I lay there for a moment and stared at the ceiling, worried that sleep would evade me. That was the last thing I recalled as I fell swiftly into a deep, dreamless slumber. The TV stayed on, a dull distant discomfort in the background. 

 

I woke up to the sound of a car horn somewhere nearby. Cracking one eye open, I blinked once or twice trying to remember where I was. The previous night’s occurrences came back steadily and I felt strangely calm, settled. I climbed out of bed, remaking it before padding into the bathroom. I headed towards the kitchenette, passing the TV that had been on all night in it’s hushed tones. I prayed for caffeine and was rewarded by ¼ of a jar of instant in one of the cupboards. With a grateful eagerness I filled the electric kettle and found a clean mug on a little tree-stand on the corner of the countertop. A couple of moments later and I sat on one of the stools, sipping the strong hot brew, convinced it was going to be a better day than I’d had in a while. I checked my watched and noted it was a little past 9am. Simon had asked I be down in the club and ready for my first shift at 6pm that evening. Plenty of time to get done what I needed, shop for a few things and just generally try and anticipate the forthcoming night. Something by the door caught my eye and I noticed what appeared to be a note pushed beneath it. I quirked a curious brow, took another sip of my hot coffee then stalked over to the door. I leant down and picked up what looked like a folded post-it note. I unfolded it and read the scrawlings.

Morning, hope you slept well. I didn't want to disturb you so figured this would be best. Breakfast is outside your door, eat up and get on with your day, first shift starts at 6pm sharp, don’t be late.  
S

I re-read it before slowly unlocking and opening my door, unsure just how long the note had been put through. I peeked outside and the hallway was empty, no sound or sight of Simon or anyone else. I glanced down to see a folded brown paper bag. I took it carefully and stepped back in the apartment, relocking the door before heading over and setting the bag gently atop the counter. I unfolded the paper carefully and looked inside; a breakfast muffin, two single serve pots containing jam and butter, a bottle of fresh orange juice and a banana. There was also a new jar of instant coffee and a carton of fresh milk. I tilted my head and smiled, it was such a nice gesture, something I hadn’t really experienced in a while. As I took the items out one at a time, a low grumble in my stomach reminded me I was indeed hungry. After stocking the milk in the little refrigerator and putting the coffee away, I set to work on the muffin. I washed it down with the remainder of my coffee and opted to take the banana and orange juice out with me, I figured I’d likely want a snack while I was out and about. Breakfast taken care of, I cleaned up after myself, changed into some clean cargos and t-shirt and tossed my dark mid-length locks up in a messy bun before stuffing it up into a baseball cap. Snacks in my backpack, I shouldered it and headed out, turning the TV off as I left.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time I’d got back from shopping and into the apartment, the clock on the wall was reading 16:38. Plenty of time for me to get something to eat, grab a shower and get changed ready for my first ever work shift. As I locked the door behind me and headed across to the small sofa to deposit my bag downs, I felt an odd mixture of nerves and excitement fluttering around my stomach. I’d come back in up the fire escape, so whilst I hadn’t seen anyone, I could hear people downstairs, kegs being moved, the tinkle of glasses and the hum of general preparation. Was this mysterious ‘boss’ down there now? Did he know I was his newest employee? I tried to imagine the type of guy he would be... probably old, overweight, the type of guy that likes watching naked women because he finds it too hard to date one. I shuddered and prayed I wasn’t right and I was being overly judgemental. Anyway, no time to muse, I’d find out soon enough I thought.  
I unpacked the bags, careful to unload the bag containing various food items and snacks and getting them into the cupboards and refrigerator. I left a chicken salad bowl I’d picked up on route home on the side and would eat that for dinner once I’d finished unpacking. I’d got a few new tops, some jeans, jean shorts, some plain but smart little black pumps as I figured they’d be comfy to be on my feet all night. Some makeup, a travel hairdryer, cosmetics and a few little items for the apartment such as a couple of candles and a little pot with tea roses in it. I smiled at my haul and was quite pleased I still had half of the money left that Simon had given me. I put everything away, set out what I was wearing that night on the bed and then quickly ate before grabbing a shower. Whilst I was finishing in the shower I heard the grumble of a big engine car pulling up nearby. Once out, I wrapped myself in a towel and peeked out the little bathroom window. Whomever it was, they were already inside now, but in the one parking space by the club’s rear entry was a sleek, black Chevy Camaro. I craned my neck to see the licence plate, N3 GAN. So, was this the boss? Camaro guy? Again, the nervous excitement zinged around my body as I dried my hair and put a little makeup on; nothing crazy, just some foundation, a little cat-eye eyeliner and mascara. I tied my freshly cleaned tresses into a ballerina bun and left a few loose wisps around the side of my face, so I didn’t look too serious. A little spray of my favourite fragrance and I was as ready as I’d ever be. I looked in the mirror at my fitted jean shorts, black vest top and my little pumps; I look smart but casual, eager but not naïve… or at least I hoped. I checked the clock, 1745pm. I’d have a quick, sweet coffee to steady my nerves and then head down. I hoped I could handle this and wasn’t making the stupidest mistake of my life… 

As I stepped into the bar area, I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and ease the trembling in my body. The lights were up, and the room was mainly filled with girls in flimsy silk robes, sitting on the stage areas sipping drinks, hair in rollers, some applying makeup as they chatted casually. Simon was behind the bar and was talking to a guy in a delivery uniform, so he hadn’t noticed me come in. I walked over slowly and as the delivery guy shuffled out from behind the bar with his checkboard, Simon did a double-take on me and smiled broadly before giving a low whistle.   
“Well look at you, amazing what a good sleep, a shower and some new threads can do eh?” he looked me up and down as he spoke, but not in a creepy way, he almost looked like a proud father. I couldn’t help but smile back.  
“Yeah, thanks again for everything, I’ve no idea where I’d be now if you hadn’t taken me in…” I said honestly, lowered my eyes as I finished. I didn’t notice him close the distance and lift my chin up gently with his index finger.  
“Hey, I think you’re stronger than you realise, and I reckon you’d have found a way” he spoke soft, with a warmth in his voice I’d not heard before, “but for what it’s worth, your welcome. Just don’t fuck me over, okay?” he smiled and winked, I smiled back and nodded.   
“Right, let’s crack on, shall we? The club doesn’t open until 7pm, so I’ll go over the basics with you now, and the rest is on the fly, sound good?” I nodded and stepped up to the bar, eager and ready to learn…

With minutes to go to opening, we’d gone over the popular drinks, how to serve them and what the clients wanted. Simon covered working the cash register, where the extra stock was and how to fix new bottles to optics. He briefly covered what to do if a client got aggressive, telling me there was both a metal bar beneath the bar and a shotgun for extreme cases, however he reassured me it rarely happened, and I’d likely never be on my own for long periods. I felt quietly confident, ready to put what I’d been taught into practice. As Simon headed out to open the bar up, he turned and said,  
“Oh, the boss is in tonight, but he’s in the back office sorting the books. He’s been away a week or so and wants to get everything straight before he comes out.”  
I didn’t say anything in response as he headed out to unlock the doors. This boss was getting more mysterious by the second, I was intrigued. Like clockwork, the girls dispersed from the stage and disappeared through the curtains behind. I jumped suddenly when a thrum of music began to flow from the speakers dotted around the place, the lights simultaneously dipping low to create a secret, sultry ambience. Even over the steady beat of music, I heard the click of a door unlocking somewhere behind, and I turned and glanced to a darkened archway, anticipating the person coming through. I felt surprised when a tall, beautiful slender blonde strode out. She was wearing red lingerie and high red leather heels. She glanced at me as she sauntered past towards the stage, seeming to wipe her mouth and smirk, before tossing her curled blonde locks over her shoulder and vanishing behind the curtain with the rest of them. Was that the boss? Couldn’t be, I was sure Simon had said ‘he’. I was still staring at where the woman had gone behind the stage when someone wolf-whistled to my left. I yelped in surprised and spun to face whoever it was that had snuck up on me.  
He was tall, with a strong build and short black and grey peppered hair. He had a short beard that matched his hair and expertly framed his strong jawline. Black boots, dark Levis, a black leather biker jacket and what looked like a red scarf tucked in at the neck. His dark eyes gleamed with mirth as a large, wolfish grin appeared on his face.  
“Well well well… Simon sure knows how to pick ‘em, no wonder he took you on in a snap!” his voice was deep and rich, caramel tones with a sexy half-southern lilt. He took me in like a wolf regarding a lone sheep, his eyes covering every square inch of my body. I suddenly regretted wearing shorts, felt exposed and vulnerable.  
“What’s your name darlin?” he purred, stepping closer to me, tipping his head and making realise just how tall he was in comparison to myself. I wanted to move back in retreat but felt like my body was rejecting all my instincts. I swallowed to steady the thrum of blood in my ears.  
“Tyla…” I said, realising it was barely above a whisper, gazing up as he towered over my smaller frame.  
His smile intensified, if that was even possible, clearly pleased with the effect he was having on me. He reached a leather gloved hand slowly for my own hanging limply at my side. His movements were slow and controlled, like a hunter trying not to spook the doe in his rifle sight. I felt his large hand encircle my own and raise it to his mouth.   
“Tyla” he rolled the name across his tongue, his brows lifting as he found satisfaction in it, “don’t be shy darlin… we’re all friends here.” As he finished the sentence, he grazed his lips over the delicate skin on the back of my hand. I could feel the slightest brush of his teeth through, and the wispy scratch of his beard, it immediately sent electricity slamming through my entire system, before it pooled into a heavy coil in the lowest part of my belly.   
I tried not to let him see the gooseflesh rising on my arms or hear the flutter in my voice as I replied.  
“And I take it… you’re the boss?” he still had my hand, his thumb starting to rub tiny circles against my skin. His eyes seem to darken with something hidden, something deep and sensual, his smile never shifting.   
“That I am, little lady, but you can call me Negan” …


End file.
